“There’s a hurricane?” I asked blankly.
“Yeah. An earthquake and a hurricane in the same week. Can you believe it?”
“There was an earthquake?” I asked blankly.
Where I was, the temperature was perfect, the sun was shining, and the ocean breeze was refreshing. It was October, and Cozumel was welcoming in all its glory. Okay, so there were bad guys with guns chasing my hero and heroine, and they’d had to hole up in a scary-shabby hotel, because the hero’s house had been ransacked, as had the place where the heroine was supposed to stay. Still, it was perfect.
My mantra regarding weather and strife and disaster is: if it ain’t happening to me, it ain’t happening. I live in my head. I’ve already got responsiblility for entire towns and islands full of people; I control their weather, their strife and disaster. It’s not that I don’t care what’s going on in the real world; I just need someone to tell me about it. I can only follow so many lives at once, and most of those take place in my head. (See my other blog post — http://www.the-twisted-sisters.com/ — titled Simple Dog and Helper Dog for more insight into the way I function . . . or don’t function, depending on your view.)
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve finished in a scene set in steamy, sultry Georgia or searing heat of midsummer Oklahoma and walked out of the office startled to realize that, in reality, it was winter and freezing cold. Or my characters are struggling through an electrifying storm, and I’m grumbling I can’t find my slicker when I open the door to bright sunshine.
I do try to pay attention to the real world, but the truth is, I like where I live. It’s safe and cozy. I never get sunburned or frostbite. I’m safe from everything but creepy crawlies and lightning strikes. Life happens the way I want it to. And I think I’ll stay.